


Feels like an eternity

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: College AU, Deep Poetry, Dino Onsies, Dipper likes coffee, F/F, I wrote this for a class, M/M, Mabes is a musical person, Musicals, same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey bro-bro, don't worry! College is going to be great, and it'll be even greater because we got into the same school!" Mabel jumped up and down, taking Dipper's hands.</p><p>Tidbits of writing from my College AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

Dipper looked across the campus, scanning over several frostbitten faces. The coffee cup in his hands was starting to cool down to the temperature of the air around him, leaving a disappointing caramel hint instead of the steamy mug o love he’d been looking forward to. Classes were at that point in the semester where they seemed to drag on without any point; summer too far away but a dream to hold onto. Warming his hands on the lukewarm cup, Dipper sighed quietly. Free periods were always spent like this. The cafe on campus carried the caramel drinks he enjoyed in the winter and iced coffees he enjoyed from the summer so he grabbed a bench on the lounging area outside and watched the rushed students go by, some composed and ready to take in as much information as they could and some grasping to their coffee cups like it was a literal life saver and without it they would crash and burn into exhaustion. He’d had those days. Gulping down his treat Dipper moved to walk beside a fast paced rainbow. Dipper’s best friend since they’d been a child, and also his twin sister, Mabel Pines. 

“Hey.” Dipper greeted her with a little wave. As usual, there wasn’t a lack of colour in her coordinated outfit. It started with a homemade lace collar which connected to a dress she had made for a class last semester. Her stockings had cute cat faces on them which paired with her kick-ass doc martians. Overall, Dipper would give this outfit an 8.5 out of 10.

“In Fall, everything falls. My GPA, my motivation, my likeliness of having a successful life.” Mabel whined, draping the back of her hand over her face. “It’s just not fair. I wanna go home. I want a beer.”

“We’re not old enough to legally drink yet, Mabel. Please be safe when you’re ranting in the middle of the quad.”

“I want an ice cream sandwich. I wanna take a nap. I wanna write and compose an entire script.”

“That’s just borderline unhealthy, no one should sit down for that long.”

“I want a vodka shot. No, not a shot. A bottle.”

“Did you not just hear me?” Dipper rolled their eyes. While his major was a respectable Creative Writing paired with English Literature, hers was a Theater and in her free time she was the Musical Director for the school’s Musical Theater Appreciation Committee. The thespians in that club were very cutthroat, and even though Dipper ridiculed her for her choices, he was secretly proud of her position.

The two continued walking in silence, occasionally pointing out things they liked on the street like a neat dog or a pretty leaf. The two often took walks together in complete silence, in their own train of thought far too busy to carry on a conversation. Mabel’s bag bumped into Dipper’s leg, causing him to notice it.

“Hey Mabel, can I ask you something?” Mabel hummed a response to show she was listening, tapping out a message to someone on her phone. “Do you think you could make me a messenger bag like yours to carry my laptop and books? My old bag is falling apart and I like yours.”

Mabel’s eyes sparkled with ideas, nodding enthusiastically. “I’d love to, man! Ooh, do you think I could cross-stitch it and use felt for the inside? Or would that cause too much friction? I never know with these-”

Dipper let her continue on planning, knowing from experience that trying to stop her wouldn’t amount to anything. He slowed down to walk beside her; watching the people around them. Many of them looked as bored as they were, spending the period studying or brushing up on facts for a test. While he was scanning, Dipper’s eyes bulged. 

“Mabes!” He almost yelled, nudging her in the side. “Look, that guy over there is pretty hot. Is he your type?”

Mabel stifled a laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’d be into that. . . but maybe you would if he’s really that hot.” She shot him a wink, giggling. “Seriously, Dipper, you’re the weirdest thing.”

“I would not be interested in that. I think he’s wearing Crocs. And. . . what is that even?” The two squinted in unison, staring down the blond across the way who was blissfully reading something in his lap.

“No-”

“He can’t really-”

“I want one.” They finished together, nodding in unison. 

The man was wearing a dino onsie, complete with back spikes and a tail. The blanket he was sitting on protected his laptop which was resting in front of him with several indie band stickers on it. 

“Mabel, catching me I’m swooning.” Dipper fake swooned, leaning in towards Mabel’s ear. “This is my dream man, let me at him.” 

“Hold up there Tiger, you don’t even know if he’d be interested. I mean you don’t really scream. . .” Mabel looked over Dipper’s outfit. “Okay never mind, go get him.”

Dipper looked down at his clothes, noting the pink skinny jeans and tee with folded sleeves and a little pocket. “I’m not that gay, man. Don’t be fucking rude.” He bounced over the the onsie blond, grinning at the braveness.

“Hey there, my sister and I saw you from across the street. Do you mind if I sit down?” Dipper motioned to the blanket the Dino man was sitting on. It was patterned to have a tweet printed on it from someone who’s name started with a Troy and ended with Ivan. Dipper shruged, not being caught up in the scene of "teens" these days.

“Um. . .” The blond looked over Dipper, pausing on their legs and blushing slightly. “Sure.” He patted the sport next to him and scooted over slightly. “I’m Bill. Bill Cipher.” Bill glaced back at his laptop, quickly flicking over the keys to save whatever it was he was writing. With his fingers. That were long.

Dipper blinked, with his eyes that almost always had that function. “My name is Dipper.” He found their eyes drawn to the document left open on Bill’s lap. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you writing?”

Bill brightened. “I’m writing a couple poetry pieces for my class! I wanted to take a spin on the traditional poetry forms by using them to talk about modern things. Like this one,” he pointed to a small hiaku on the top. “It’s about a social media site and how it won’t load with the student wifi that we’ve ben provided, and this one.” He pointed to a long piece which seemed to flow over the page. “ This one is about the struggles of someone with a mental health disorder.”

Dipper whistled, raising his eyebrows. “Color me impressed, man. That sounds really cool.” He glanced back at Mabel, noting her bored but devious look. “I should probably head back to but. . . could I maybe give you my number?”

Bill stammered, rapidly blinking. “Um. Sure. I mean, I guess if you want. I.” He took out his phone, handing it to Dipper. “Here, you can just put in your info here.” He bit his lip, looking down at Dipper from above the rims of his glasses. “I can text you later when I finish this, so that you’ll have my number in your phone too.” He finished lamely, holding out his arms in an uncomfortable angle.

After trading farewells, the two parted. On infatuated, one awkwardly touched by the encounter. “Sooooo, what do you two talk about? Did you get his number? Does he have a twin sister who dresses nicer?”

“Man, calm down. I just chatted him up about stupid things why did I even go up to him. Mabel, I made a fool of myself he probably deleted my contact right after I put it in.” Dipper sighed, holding his head in-between his arms.

Mabel stopped, standing still in the middle of the walkway. “Oren Pines. You are a catch and any man would be luck to have you.” She glared him down, grabbing his shoulders. “Do you understand? Nod if you agree. Nod even if you don’t agree.”

“But-” Dipper started, looking down at his feet. The leaves on the ground, he noted, were bursting with color like they did in their hometown.

“No. I will not accept any feedback on my solid facts, thanks. If you don’t believe in your date-ability then how will other hot guys think you’d be a good person to date? Trust me on this, it’s all a matter of confidence.” Mabel poked him in-between his eyes. “How did you think i score the chicks I do, come on think about it.”

“Maybe because you’re actually successful and have the whole looks thing going for you?” He bit the inside of his lip. Mabel did so many things to help the community. What did he do? Sit at home on his laptop. “I’m going to go to my dorm for a while, sorry.”

Mabel frowned, watching Dipper’s hair bob up and down as they walked the pavement of the quad back to his dorm. “That boy.”


	2. Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's bit of poetry he didn't tell Dipper about.

“I was always such a child. When my father left, I didn’t know why he did so, I thought that it was all my mother’s fault so I cried for him. He would take me places, always with a can in his hand, and I would go with him, excited. I would share the things that I was proud of with him. he was my role model, I wanted to be smart just like him.” Bill looked up from his reading into the curious stares of his classmates. When he signed up for this class he hadn’t thought he’d have to read his poetry out loud. At least it was free range poetry, he was rubbish at everything else.

He swallowed dryly, continuing. “I found his browser history. I didn’t know what it meant, but the girls were beautiful and not my type. I went back on my website and forgot i ever saw anything. we had pizza. I’ve inherited that laptop and now that’s all I can think about when I tap out things on the keys or check the history.” This was painful, he decided. Reading his thoughts out loud. At least this piece wasn’t too apparent that he was writing about himself.

“Once we went through the grove in the park and sat in the trees among the homeless, you with another strong smelling can in your hand, and me with a dog leash. I had started figuring out what it was you were drinking. that day I tried to stop you from grabbing that can and instead tried to get you to grab a coke, but you yelled at me and bought it anyway. I cried.” He remembered the red hot shame of a child at not being able to protect his father against the evil of the liquid, about not understanding quite enough to see and addiction for what it was. At school they had taught him about alcohol abuse, but not quite enough. That night his mother had sat him down and told him about his father. He hadn’t believed her, and instead ran down the hall and slammed the door in her face. He’d cried that night too.

“Ever since I figured out that you left me for alcohol I hated you. Or at least, I thought I hated you. I hated how you lived and how beer took my father away from me. I thought that when you went to rehab after rehab that you had changed and that my father had come back. Each time I got my heart broken. I stopped thinking that.” He was angry. Angry at him for leaving him all alone, angry at the world, angry at himself. Feelings whipped inside of Bill’s mind, like a bit of a plastic bag in a hurricane. “You were in the hospital. People said you were dying. I didn’t care. I told myself that it was just like every other time someone said you were dying so I stayed out, camping under the ebony skies of the country. I went along to the hospital anyway and cried. You survived that day. That part was particularly painful to Bill. I shouldn’t have, he thought, put that in. The emotions of that day fresh in his mind. All of the family in town had squeezed into that small hospital room. He’d spent most of it staring at the shiny brown linoleum floor.

Bill ventured a look at his classmates who were all captured by his words. Some were nodding to what he has said, some looked quite sad, and some looked confused. “In the middle of the week we got a call. You had died. Eating cereal. That was, I thought to myself, a terrible way to die. I had spent all that time wishing you would leave me alone and now you’re gone and I find myself wishing that you were in fact here, annoying me and telling me about how smart you are or telling dad jokes. I find myself revealing how selfish I was instead of you. I find myself hating the person I’ve become more and more.” He glanced at his audience again, having gained back all of their attention. Many of them were staring at him with shock and horror written over their faces.

This is an apology. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Sorry for being this way, sorry that I know what alcohol tastes like when I’m drowning in it, sorry that I am intimate with the feel of the barrel of a gun against my temple, sorry for the barbed wire, sorry for that, sorry for this, sorry for the cathedrals I ruined and the monuments I set fire to, sorry for the deadbolt and the chain and the lock with no key.” Bill stopped, folded his work up into a tiny square, and shoved it in his pocket.

No one clapped.


	3. Musicals

“Heathers is my favourite musical. I relate to J.D.” Bill was laying on the ground next to Dipper, looking at the clouds.

“Wow, okay um please don’t blow up this school I like it. Also I don’t think we have a boiler room under the gym. Sorry.” Dipper glanced at Bill, smiling.

“You know, I’m a Capricorn and today on Tumblr I saw something that said my song for Heathers was ‘I Am Damaged’.” He stared into the sky, unblinking. “When I was seventeen I would sing that song over and over and over again to myself in the mirror.”

Dipper watched him out of the corner of his eye, moving their hand slightly so that his pinky was wrapped around Bill’s.

They both knew words weren’t needed.

\---

“But I know, I know life can be beautiful.” 

When Dipper opened the door to their apartment, there was singing flowing from the bathroom. Bill must be home, they supposed. After a couple weeks ago when they had started dating, he’d become infatuated with the songs from Heathers. Dipper had watched it with him once, having found a bootleg on YouTube. They liked Heather. Which one? The main one. In secret they practiced the choreography for Candy Store and suggested to Mabel that the theater should put it on. Of course she had suggested that Dipper audition for main Heather. “You have the figure for her! Also your belt is just as impressive.” Dipper had blushed at that. While they hadn’t ended up pursuing it, they’d been in many theater productions; even had lead roles in a few. If they auditioned for the musical, would they respect their pronouns and gender?

“Oh, hey, I didn’t hear you come in. How are you?” Bill side-smirked, throwing his arms around Dipper. “What are you thinking about in that big brain of yours?” He kissed Dipper’s temple, pulling away.

“It’s just, Mabel told me I should audition for Heather in Heathers.” Dipper looked down. “What if I’m not good enough? Hundreds of girls on this campus would kill for that role, and I’m not really a girl.”

Bill ruffled their hair. “You should go for it, you don’t know until you try it, right? You’d be the best Heather. The Red one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sing me something. As a professional musical bum I will decide, no holding back.” Bill nodded reassuringly, motioning Dipper to move to the middle of the lounge.

“Are we gonna have a problem, you’ve got a bone to pick?” They started off timid, getting comfortable slipping into character. “You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?” Once they were fully Heather, they found the words to come easier to them. “I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch, but I’m feeling nice. Here’s some advice. . . Listen up, biotch!”

Their eyes brightened as they started to sing, emitting a beautiful bright tune that also had a sultry under-tone. “I like! Lookin’ hot, buying stuff they cannot. I like! Drinkin’ hard, maxin’ Dad’s credit card.” In a spur of the moment, they decided to skip to the chorus. Belting out, they proudly sang the lyrics which were so Heather they couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

A shocked look crossed Bill’s face, causing anxiety to flare and churn in Dipper’s stomach. “What did you think?”

Bill ran into Dipper, knocking into him slightly. “You were fantastic, babe! You’d be the best Heather!”


End file.
